“There are billions of people in that other realm!” Cheyenne slapped her hands on the table and lurched to her feet, snarling. “We’re not leaving them unprotected.”
“What has Earth done for us?” Another orc jabbed a meaty finger at Cheyenne and grunted. “Taken the one drow who can make a difference on this side while we try to hold together the last crumbling pieces of an old Cycle that didn’t sow terror and death.”
Cheyenne gritted her teeth, itching to unleash her magic, which burned hotter than ever through her blood. “It’s done a lot more than that. Without ‘that other realm,’ I wouldn’t be here. You’d have one more nameless child of L’zar Verdys lying dead at his feet. Or maybe none.”
“You’ve got a weakness for the humans, Aranél.” The black-and-red magical sneered at her. “That didn’t come from L’zar. Was it your fool mother, then?”
“Watch it.”
“Raised you as an Earthside-born drow, taught you to defend the weak because she’s forgotten what blood runs through her veins?”
Fury boiled through Cheyenne’s body, and she didn’t even try to stop the purple sparks flaring from her fingertips. The magicals sitting closest to her leaned away, except for Persh’al and the old raug. “Earth is my home, asshole. You have a seriously fucked-up misconception about what humans are worth, and what they’re capable of.”
“See? You’ve grown too attached.”
“I’m attached because I’m one of them!” A flare of black flames burst from within the drow halfling’s eyes, her purple sparks crackling across her skin like an electric current before quickly disappearing.
The sixteen other magicals gathered around the table stared at her with wide eyes.
“Is this true?” a goblin man asked, lowering his hand. He’d been picking his teeth.
Persh’al sighed. “It’s—”
“No, I got this,” Cheyenne snapped, jerking her hand out toward him and gesturing for him to wait. “I’m not full human, but my mother is. And I’ll tell you right now, if I had to choose between her and anyone else in this room, I’d choose her every time. Not because she’s my mother, but because that human could take down entire armies with a few well-placed words and a little leverage. I don’t give a shit who’s sworn loyalty to L’zar or to me. We’re not sacrificing Earth just to make you feel like L’zar hasn’t wasted your time.”
The cloaked magical with the glowing red eyes started laughing again, his form flitting between a humanoid shape and a swarm of black specks swirling above his chair. The black-and-red magical with the small horns studding his scalp hissed at the halfling but didn’t argue again.
“Well.” Foltr leaned back in his chair and lifted his cane to set it across his lap. “There’s no denying who fathered this one, is there?”
A round of low, tense chuckles rose from the gathered magicals.
“You can sit down, kid.” Persh’al nodded when she glared down at him. “You made your point.”
Cheyenne sank into her chair and folded her arms. I lost my shit. Apparently, that’s what it takes for them to smarten the hell up.
“You’re not wrong about the portals.” Nu’ek, too large for any of the chairs around the table, took a slow step forward from where she’d been at the side of the chamber. “If they’re opening on the other side on their own, things are worse here than any of us knew.”
“It’s bad enough already,” the quilled woman added.
“We figured as much.” Persh’al nodded and gazed around the table. “We were at Wildhaven when Nu’ek found us. The peacekeepers aren’t contained to high-end restaurants and Uppertech nightclubs, are they?”
“No.” The black-tusked orc grimaced with distaste. “It’s everywhere. The Crown’s lost her mind, and she’s taking the whole fell-damned city with her.”
“We hear about the outernóre making the crossing in droves,” the cloaked magical added, fully materialized for the conversation. “That’s been causing enough problems, but what other choice do they have? They’re starving. Terrified. And of course, she won’t lift a finger against the raiders now taking everything that’s left in the Outers. They don’t even have the means to buy their way into the city where everyone else thinks it’s safe.”
“And those with any veréle are moving as close to Hangivol as they can get, if not right into it.” A troll woman with a thin silver chain dangling between a stud in either ear shook her head. “The fell-damned Mother’s drawing her blinded children ever closer under the guise of luxury and safety, but this place is a madhouse, and the Crown’s made it impossible to leave.”
“I’m guessing it gets worse above Uppertech,” Persh’al muttered.
“Of course. The lower levels don’t have it as bad as the inner circles.”
“What about once you’re inside the city?” The blue troll scanned the faces gathered around the table. “We watched a guy get eaten by a wall just for calling out truths. Granted, he was louder about it than he should’ve been, but if most magicals are too afraid to be that loud, I’m trying to figure out why the Hangivol Exodus hasn’t happened yet.”
“Oh, we can all come and go as we please,” Nu’ek replied. “If you’ve got business outside the city, sure. As long as you bring it right back.”
Persh’al’s eyes narrowed. “And nobody has much business outside a city doing all the business with itself.”
“The Crown abandoned the Outers.” Foltr grunted. “From Simmara all the way to Teridól would be seeing the same by now if it weren’t for their stewards. They walk as tight a rope as we do, trying to placate her while keeping their wards safe within the territories.”
“But here,” the troll woman added, “O’gúleesh can do whatever they want whenever they want. Tech runs most of the grunt work these days, and the fortunate Hangivol-dwellers are living it up on every level outside the Edhilór.”
“What’s her reasoning for handing everything over to the pawns?” Persh’al asked.
